


from now on

by parkrstark



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Amputation, Arguing, Avalanches, Blood and Injury, F/M, Gen, Hospitalization, Humiliation, Hurt Peter Parker, Hypothermia, Loss of Limbs, Miscommunication, Post-Endgame, Recovery, Snow, Star Wars References, Tony Stark Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkrstark/pseuds/parkrstark
Summary: When a morning hike goes wrong on Peter and Tony's trip in the mountains, there's only one thing Tony can do to save the kid's life.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 514
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019, The Best Irondad/Spiderson Fics, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics





	from now on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eccentric_artist_221b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentric_artist_221b/gifts).



> This is written for my friend for the Iron Dad gift exchange that wanted the following:  
> 1) Anything revolving around Tony, Peter, Coffee and Snow (it can be fluffy, angsty or both!) 
> 
> 2) A hurt/comfort fic with lots of Peter sobbing/screaming in pain and Tony doing his best to bring comfort
> 
> 3) I'd love a Tony & Peter survival or disaster story...stranded alone up in the snowy mountains....or lost at sea....or dealing with a really bad earthquake or Tsunami.  
> And a chractert needing help with simple tasks in recovery.  
> Because I love her so much, I thought she deserved all of her prompts fulfilled. So this is all of them in one! 
> 
> just a few notes: there is amputation in this so if that makes you uncomfortable, leave now. I tried to make it acccurate, but I'm no doctor. If it's not, which it probably isn't, and it really bothers you that much just click back and don't read. Other than that, I really hope you enjoy it!

Cold. Cold. Colder. 

Tony snapped his eyes open with a gasp. 

Everything around him was  _ cold.  _ The air was so cold, it was biting his face. The snow whipping through the air was stabbing his cheeks like tiny knives.

He let out an involuntary groan as he tried pushing himself up. He was face down in a bank of snow for some reason. He was definitely hurt too. Dazed, confused, and recently unconscious usually equaled concussion. 

That would explain the headache. 

But it didn't explain anything else. 

He was supposed to be relaxing. Ever since he snapped, he was always supposed to be relaxing. Which was easier said than done when he had a reckless spider-baby to mentor. 

Reckless spider-baby…Peter was supposed to be here with him. That much Tony knew. They were in Vermont or maybe Colorado...somewhere snowy with mountains. It was supposed to be a boys' weekend. Pepper, May, and Morgan were all going to California for some sun. So Tony and Peter decided on snow. 

Remembering that seemed to break the dam of his other memories and he remembered. He and Peter had a cabin miles and miles from anything. They were out that morning on a walk just to explore. Nothing crazy or dangerous. Just a walk. 

And then Peter had gone still. His eyes had gone wide and Tony barely had time to comprehend what was going on before Peter was lifting him up and literally throwing him across the snow like a ragdoll. 

Tony must have hit his head when he landed, but he remembered yelling Peter's name as he flew. He remembered wondering if Peter could even hear him over the thundering rumbles from behind them. 

It must have been an avalanche. And Peter couldn't save both of them, so he saved Tony. 

Tony was going to kill this kid. He promised that a lot, but this time, he was serious. 

He struggled to push himself up to his feet, not only because the snow was deep, but also because his arm shook violently with any pressure on it. Some days after the snap, he was fine and others, he wasn't. Today was seeming to be one of those other days. 

The only way he even managed to push himself up was the thought of Peter hurt somewhere with no help, relying on Tony. 

He took a few hesitant steps forward, feeling like a newborn calf walking for the first time. He almost took a few nosedives as he made his way towards where they had been walking. 

Tony noticed more rocks and branches and dirt around. There were pockets of snow in some places and mounds of them in others. Just this morning, the entire place had been peaceful and white with crisp snow.

He cupped his hands around his mouth as he screamed into the wind, "Peter! Peter, where are you?" He listened intently, but all he heard was the wind. 

"Pete!" His voice was already frantic. There was no way for him to know where Peter was and find him quickly. Tony didn't have any tech with him. He was retired. This wasn't a trip for Spider-Man, so Tony hadn't planned for it. He just packed like a normal person would for a weekend trip to the mountains. 

Their phones were still sitting on the counter in the cabin because there was little to no service anywhere out here. Tony didn't even know which way would lead him to the cabin. 

"Peter! Please answer me, buddy!" He took larger steps, keeping his eyes downcast. Peter was wearing a red jacket, so it should stand out against the snow. 

He continued his search and continued calling Peter's name, trying to keep his mind from going anywhere dangerous. He needed to avoid the 'what if's. 

"Peter! Just make a sound so I can get you! Please!" 

There were no sounds except for the howling of the wind. Could Peter even hear him? Was Tony even close? 

"Come on, kid," Tony muttered through a harsh shiver. "Just give me a sign." 

His steps gradually grew slower and slower until he was barely walking. His throat was raw from all his screaming and his body felt numb. He was so cold and sleepy...very sleepy. He just wanted to rest for maybe a moment. 

His legs immediately buckled and Tony felt himself go down to his knees. It only took another moment for him to fall again, landing on his bad arm. He would have hissed in pain if he could have felt it. 

He laid in the snow and even though he knew the ice pressed against his face should have been burning his skin, he didn't flinch. It didn't feel bad. It felt like a pillow. 

Maybe if he just took a quick nap, then he'd wake up fully rested and he'd be able to find Peter quicker. 

In the moment, it sounded like the best idea he'd ever had. So he laid there and began to let his eyes drift shut. His nap would only take like 10 minutes. Not even. 

He would have shut them all the way if his eyes didn't catch something familiar at the last second. His blurry vision adjusted enough just to barely make out the red blob a few feet in front of him. 

"Peter?" He whispered, suddenly feeling his drowsiness slip away. That was Peter. Peter needed help. Tony's nap could wait. 

He pushed himself back up, which didn't take as long as the first time when he had Peter waiting right in front of him. He was even more unsteadier on his feet, but he kept going. He didn't stop until he was right in front of Peter. 

Peter was laying on his back, half underneath a pile of snow and branches. There was a steady stream of blood dripping down his temple from a nasty looking gash on his forehead. He didn't even acknowledge Tony when he fell to his knees by his head. 

Tony took his face in his hand and cupped his cheek gently. Peter didn't react to the touch. "Hey, bud...are you with me?" 

Peter blinked his eyes heavily a few times before they settled on Tony. "M's'r S'rk?" 

It sounded like Peter was talking around a mouthful of rocks, but Tony still recognized his name. "Yeah, Pete. It's me. You got yourself stuck, huh?" 

Peter groaned and turned his head away from the part of his body covered in snow. "Can' move…" 

Tony glanced over at the branch pinning him to the ground. It wasn't overly large. Even Tony could have lifted it off of himself. Peter must have been really messed up from the head injury if he couldn't get himself out. "I'm here to help you out, kiddo." 

"Rescue me?" Peter asked, his lips curling into a smile. 

"You know I always will. As long as you keep getting yourself into trouble, I'll keep pulling you out of the fire." He fought past his own possible concussion to lean over and secure his hands around the branch. He tugged hard and immediately fell back, the branch still in his hands. It barely weighed 10 pounds. 

"Y'know," Peter mumbled, carelessly. "This s'lot like Star Wars. Empire Strikes Back. M'stuck on Hoth and you come save me." 

That branch was barely heavy. Peter should have been able to push it off himself and get free. Why didn't he? Tony tried to chase away any worries by humoring Peter and his conversation. "That makes you Luke and me Han, kid. Just like I've always told you."

Peter grunted, shaking his head. "No. M'Han." 

Tony rolled his eyes. "You are not Han. We both know you're a Luke. There's no shame in that." Tony pushed himself back up and leaned over to the snow covering Peter. He swiped his hand through the mound to clear some off of Peter, but it didn't go easily. His hand smacked into something hard. 

"Where's Ben?" Peter asked suddenly. 

And that worried Tony more than the discovery of something else on top of Peter. He furrowed his brow when he looked down at Peter. "Kid, you're with Tony. 2024." Ben's been dead for almost a decade.

"M'suposta see Ben," Peter grunted, letting his eyes fall shut. 

Tony tapped his cheek lightly to wake him back up. "No no. Wake up, kiddo." 

Peter pinched his face in annoyance but opened his eyes anyway. "Luke sees his Ben in The Empire Strikes Back. Why can't I see mine?" 

Tony's heart ached. "That's just a movie, kid. This is real life." Now that he knew Peter wasn't going crazy, he went back to whatever the hell was on Peter. He tried shoving it off, but he realized why Peter was still here. 

Peter wasn't covered with snow. The boulder was covered with snow...the boulder on top of the right side of Peter's body. 

Tony's eyes widened as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. He could feel the anxiety trying to claw out of his stomach. This was not good. 

He leaned in closer to where the end of the rock was and Tony could see blood staining both the snow and Peter's jacket. 

His arm was probably crushed underneath there. Tony covered his mouth and glanced away while he waited for his stomach to settled. 

"Peter…" Tony started, unsure of what else to say. 

"Go get help," Peter cried, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'll be here." 

"Peter, I don't know where help is. It's just you and me, bud...and if we stay here any longer...Peter, you're going to bleed out. You're bleeding out as we speak." 

Peter shook his head. "I can't-- you just have to...please." 

Tony ignored him as he turned back to the boulder. It was stained with Peter's blood and only getting worse. "Peter, if I leave you, you're going to die." If Tony didn't get him from the rock, he was going to die. 

That left one option and Tony hated even the idea of it. He shook his head, refusing to give up yet because  _ that  _ meant giving up. "I'm going to try to lift it one more time. You've gotta be ready to move if I lift it." 

Peter nodded his head, but Tony wasn't sure if he really knew what he was supposed to do. Tony would scream until he moved when the time came. 

However, when he went back to the rock, no matter how much he tried, it still couldn't move. Not that Tony was shocked. He couldn't even see how big the rock was underneath all that snow. He cursed under his breath as he tried again. 

"Can-- can you help?" Tony asked hesitantly. He hated having to ask him anything in this state. 

"Hurts," he muttered. 

"What hurts?" 

"Arm. Can't move… s'stuck." He whimpered, his eyes fluttering but not falling shut. 

"Pete…"  _ I'm so sorry, Peter.  _ "There's no way for me to get you free without-- I don't have the suit. I can't lift the rock or break it." 

"Just leave me." 

"Peter," Tony said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't remembering what Tony had just told him minutes ago. "If I leave you here much longer, you will  _ die."  _

"Don't wanna die," he muttered, giving his arm a tug before letting out a grunt of pain. "My arm."

"I know, bud," Tony said. "Your arm." He could only stare at where it went under the rock. It had to already be shattered in dozens of pieces. Even if he could get the rock off him, it would be a long and painful recovery. But wouldn't any recovery be better than this? 

_ There won't be a recovery at all if you don't bring him to help soon, Stark.  _

Tony took a deep breath and inspected the area of his arm where the rock was. The only visible part of his arm was from the shoulder halfway down the bicep. He poked at the arm and felt that it was already broken. That saved some pain for both of them. 

"Peter, are you with me right now?" Should he tell Peter what he had to do? Or would it be better to just go ahead? 

"Hurts," he moaned, reaching his other hand blindly to grab at his arm. It took him a few tries to even get near it, but Tony refused to let him touch it. 

"I know it hurts. But it's about to hurt more. You're wedged under there pretty good, Pete…" Tony took another deep breath to try and quell his nausea. "In order to get you out, I'm going to have to cut--." He felt his stomach churn dangerously. "I'm going to have to amputate that arm, Peter." 

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion before his eyes filled with fear. "What? No. No. Jus' go get help." Peter started to squirm. "Please don't--." Peter stopped himself, seemingly unable to say it out loud either. Even in his delusional state. 

"Peter, I can't get help and leave you here," Tony repeated. "It was stupid, but I have nothing on me. We have nothing to call for help. If I leave you, there's no telling how long it will take me to get to help and how long it will take to bring the help back. You will either freeze to death or bleed out. There's a recovery after losing your arm, but there's no recovery after death." He let out a heavy breath after he got all that out. 

"B-but…"

"I'm sorry, Peter," Tony said, softening his voice. "I really am, but this needs to be done. This gives you a chance." 

Only a chance. Tony could go through this and still lose him. But at least it was a chance. 

"Gonna hurt?" 

Tony nodded his head once. "Yes. But, it's going to get you outta here."  _ Hopefully, you'll pass out quickly.  _

Peter choked out a response. "Fine…"

"Okay," Tony said, suddenly hesitating now that he had Peter's permission. Now he actually had to cut his arm. He pulled his keys from his pocket with shaky fingers and pulled the small pocket knife from the other keys and gadgets he had added. He flicked it open and despite it being small, it would get the job done. 

First, Tony cut through the sleeve of his jacket, sweatshirt, and undershirt. Peter had made sure to bundle up. He hated the cold. Then he pulled the scarf off his own neck, even though it was soaked in freezing cold snow and tied it tightly just above where he would have to cut. Peter let out a hoarse scream. 

Once he had all that out of the way, he ran his fingers over the bloody mess. The arm was already broken, so that saved Tony from having to break it himself. All he had to do was cut through-- Tony stopped himself from thinking about it. If he processed what he was doing, there was no way he'd be able to. 

He unraveled Peter's scarf and brought it closer to his mouth. "You're going to need to bite down on something," he said quietly. 

Peter blinked but took the scarf in his mouth anyway. 

Tony looked away from his face and then brought the knife back to the arm. He hesitated again but cursed under his breath. If he kept thinking, it would never get done. He just needed to get it done-- he stuck the knife deeper without another thought and Peter immediately gasped out in pain. 

Tony was doing this. He was actually doing this. 

Swallowing back more nausea, he pulled the blade out and slid it back down again. Peter cried out even though it was muffled from the scarf he was biting on. 

"Shh," Tony cooed, trying to comfort Peter with his other hand. The one not covered in blood. "You're so brave, kiddo. I'm proud of you." 

Tony knew he couldn't stop anymore. The longer he took now that he was cutting through the muscle, the more chances he had of bleeding out. 

So he tried to block himself from what he was doing. Peter made that just about impossible with his screaming though. 

He had been almost unconscious just moments ago, but now that he was writhing in pain, he was wide awake. Not coherent though. 

"Mis'r Stark!" He screamed, squirming underneath Tony's hold. "S-Stop!" 

Tony continued to move the blade while he turned his attention to Peter's face. It was bright red from the cold and crying and pain. His cheeks were stained with tears and Tony wouldn't be surprised if they started freezing to his skin. 

"P-Please!" Peter begged, sticking his face into the snow as deep as he could. Tony tried to use his free hand to turn his face from the snow, but that was hard to do when most of his attention was on the arm. He couldn't mess this up. 

"Peter, bud, c'mon...you're gonna give yourself frostbite." He cupped his freezing cheek with one hand and rubbed his thumb over his cheek. 

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed at Tony's hand with the arm he still had free. "Hurts. Hurts so much." 

"I know-- I know it does, but I'm going to get you free. You're going to be okay." He jerked the blade through a rather tough spot and Peter let out a blood-curdling scream. 

Tony just wanted him to pass out. Why wasn't he passing out? He needed to focus on the arm, especially with two hands and he couldn't do that if Peter needed to be comforted. 

But he didn't. For the next few minutes, Peter stayed awake and reacting to every movement as Tony worked through the limb. Tony was trying to detach it from Peter mentally so that he didn't feel as sick over what he was doing. He just had to last long enough to get Peter safe. 

Towards the end, Tony had to move his hand back to Peter's arm so he could use both hands. Peter continued to cry, now steadily sobbing as his chest heaved with every breath. 

When Tony finished and his blade went straight through to the snow below him, he didn't want to believe it. He still wanted this to be a bad dream. They had hot chocolate right before bed last night-- maybe all that sugar was giving him nightmares. 

Only, it wasn't fake. This was real. And finally, Peter was free. 

But he was also bleeding out and without a proper tourniquet, Peter was screwed if he didn't get help right away. 

By now, Peter was staring at his arm with wide glazed over eyes. He was no doubt going into shock. Another thing to worry about. Tony grabbed the scarf from his mouth and wrapped it tightly around the wound. Then he took a deep breath and lifted Peter up in his arms. 

He shouldn't be able to do this. He could barely lift himself up some days after Thanos. But he'd read about stories of parents getting superhuman strength during emergencies in order to save their children, so he didn't think anything of it. 

Peter let out a sob when Tony had him settled in his arms. He tried not to think about what they were leaving behind under that rock. 

"It's okay, kiddo," Tony whispered. "I've got you. You're okay." 

Thankfully, only a few minutes into the trek, Peter passed out unconscious in his arms. 

Tony wondered briefly if it was a good idea considering the hypothermia, the concussion, and the blood loss, but then he remembered the pain. Peter felt someone cut his own arm without any anesthesia. That was brutal. 

As he walked back in the direction he guessed that they came from, he just hoped and prayed to every god that Peter would wake back up when they got help. 

Sooner than he thought he would be, he saw their cabin come back into view. He quickened his pace, feeling his legs burn even more. He was so close. 

He reached the front door and shoved it open with one arm. Once inside, he felt a rush of warm air and would have liked to do nothing more than sit in front of the fireplace to warm up.

But Peter was still bleeding out. Peter was _ dying.  _

Tony lowered him to their couch in front of the fireplace and then hurried to the bedroom where he saw his phone sitting on the bedside table. He hurried over and grabbed it with his bloody hands. They were shaking too much to be able to do anything, so he said, "FRIDAY, send an emergency SOS to our current location. Send it to everyone."

Tony held his breath, hoping it was one of those rare times that they had service. Even a single bar.

Because it was Stark technology, of course, it worked. It took almost a minute to send out the alert, but once it did, he felt at least slightly relieved. The entire team was getting that now and one of them had to come running. 

He pocketed the phone, just in case, and went back over to the couch where he left Peter. He was still unconscious as he laid there and Tony couldn’t help but stare at the bloody scarf wrapped around where Peter’s bicep now ended. Tony felt sick, knowing it was his fault. He was the one that dragged him out here and he was the one that  _ sawed  _ off his arm. 

He looked down at his blood-covered hands and saw them shaking. His legs were no better. Now that they were as safe as they could get, Tony felt the rush of adrenaline leave his body. Letting out a heavy breath, he stumbled and fell to his knees. He caught himself on the couch cushion and rested his head just next to where Peter was. He reached out and wrapped a hand around the scarf to try and put as much pressure as he could on the wound. 

He didn’t need to wait for a long time before the door was exploding open. Tony lifted a hand to shield Peter from any flying pieces of wood. Then he heard footsteps rushing in and he turned to see who had answered his call. He saw Rhodey first, the light from the broken doorway shining around him like an angel in his War Machine suit. Sam was standing next to him, closing his wings. 

“H-Help,” Tony said, trying to push himself up. He turned to Rhodey, knowing exactly how fast that suit could go. “You’ve got to get him to Cho. Now. He’s bleeding-- I had to-- there was no choice.” 

They were going to see what he did. They were going to hate him. 

Rhodey came over with Sam right behind him. “Sam, you get Tony. I’ve got the kid.” He brushed his hand through Tony’s hair as he passed, but Tony didn’t deserve the comfort. Rhodey would realize that soon enough. 

He heard Rhodey lift Peter into his arms with a soft whisper. “I’ve got you, bud. You’re o--.” He stopped short and Tony knew that was when he saw the arm.  _ “Tony,”  _ Rhodey breathed. 

“He was freezing to death,” Tony whispered. ‘I had to-- I’m sorry. I’m sorry." 

"It's okay," Rhodey replied, even though it sounded far from it. "We're gonna figure all this out." He turned away from Peter to look over at Sam. "You got Tony?" 

"Yeah, 'course," Sam replied, immediately coming over. He glanced at Peter before kneeling down to help Tony and his eyes widened in horror. Tony looked away from him, ashamed. 

"Sam," Rhodey snapped when he didn't move. "We've got to get them out of here." 

"R-right. Sorry." He quickly leaned down and despite his refusal, he lifted Tony in a bridal carry. "I've got you, Tony. Relax now. It's okay." Sam's voice was unusually soft as he spoke to him. It must have been bad if Sam was attempting to comfort him. 

But Tony couldn't relax. He turned around to try and get his eyes on Peter. He moaned as his eyes fluttered open again. Rhodey was careful as he lifted him up. Peter immediately clung to the armor-- with his one arm. "I-Iron Man?" 

When Rhodey spoke again, he sounded choked up. "Nah, kid. It's me. It's just Mr. Rhodey."

"H-hurts," he whined, shifting in his arms. Peter liked physical comfort from a warm set of arms, not the cold metal of the suit. But he couldn't get that until they were home safe. 

"I know, kiddo. We're gonna fix it up. Don't you worry. It's all gonna be okay."

Usually, whatever Rhodey said, Tony believed without a shadow of a doubt. But this time, he couldn't.

* * *

Tony didn't want to pass out. He didn't want to even blink until he knew Peter was okay. But when he was rushed off to his own emergency room to be treated for hypothermia, he soon found himself drifting off. 

He woke up hopefully not too long later and Rhodey was sitting by his bed. He was slouched over in his chair with his elbow resting on his knee as he bit on his nails. A habit that Tony thought he kicked after college. 

"You know Mama always told you to knock that off. Eatin' all the germs under your nails," Tony croaked.

Rhodey shot up in the seat and his eyes went wide. "Tony!" 

"The one and the only." 

Rhodey was too relieved at Tony being conscious that he didn't even roll his eyes at that. "Man, I've been so worried. Between the concussion and the hypothermia, you passing out was not what we wanted." 

"Makes sense," Tony muttered, still feeling the pounding in his skull and the chill in his bones. 

Rhodey's voice was hesitant when he spoke up again, "Peter is stable. Hasn't woken up-- well, he hasn't been coherent or more than awake for a few minutes, but he's stable…” 

Tony frowned, staring at Rhodey intently. He knew Rhodey well enough to know something was wrong even if he hadn’t mentioned Peter getting surgery. How bad was the kid hurt that he needed surgery? Tony really didn’t want to think about it, but he needed to know. “What happened?”

Rhodey frowned deeper and Tony’s concern only. “Don’t you remember what happened, Tony?”

“Pete and I were in the mountains…” Tony started, his brain supplying him with a lot of unpleasant images from the nightmare he’d had. 

“There was an avalanche. We don’t know the details, but...it was bad, Tony. We almost lost him. He lost so much blood.” 

At that, Tony pushed himself up in the bed and his heart began to beat against his chest. Again, images of blood and a blade and  _ screams _ invaded his thoughts. He tried to chase them away, but they stayed.  _ No.  _ “Rhodey…”

Rhodey swallowed before he spoke. His voice was low. “You saved his life, Tony.” 

_ No. God, no--. _

“He would have died out there, Cho said. He would have frozen to death. His body was already shutting down from the cold--.” 

“Stop,” Tony gasped. He tried to keep his eyes open because when he closed them, all he could see were his bloody hands sawing through the flesh and muscle in Peter’s arm and--.

“Tony!” Rhodey rushed forward as Tony threw up all over his lap. He didn’t even feel the nausea coming on. He was too lost in his thoughts. He could still hear Peter’s  _ screams.  _ Tony gagged again, another round of vomit burning his throat as he expelled it all in his lap. His eyes were burning too. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, fighting back another gag as Rhodey kneeled by his bed. He heard him groan along with the braces on his legs. He felt the tears spill over his eyes, not from humiliation but from horror. Throwing up on himself didn’t phase him with Rhodey there to clean it up. He’d been through it before. Almost every week at MIT and at least once a month after they graduated. Rhodey was always there without complaint or disgust. 

“No apologizing, Tony. You’re okay.” Rhodey peeled the blanket off of his lap, taking most of the mess away. He balled it up and threw it in the nearest trash can. Tony didn’t move, still haunted by the images in his mind. Soon, Rhodey was back with a wet rag and started to wipe his chin. 

“He’s-- Is he-- Did I?” Tony couldn’t seem to get any words straight as Rhodey continued to clean him up. 

“You saved his life,” Rhodey repeated as if that was the most important thing. Rhodey suddenly stopped wiping at his hospital gown to glare up at him. “It  _ is  _ the most important thing, Tony. He’s alive. I’m sure he’d much rather have no arm than be dead.” 

Tony flinched because Rhodey said the words out loud. That meant it was real. He really amputated the kid’s arm off. Christ. 

Rhodey pulled another blanket around him and Tony was grateful for that. He still felt like he was in the snow, the wind biting into his skin. His eyes drifted shut as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “I almost killed him,” he whispered. 

“You saved him.” 

“He was bleeding. I didn’t even-- I just cut it off--.” 

Rhodey put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes. And in doing so, you saved his life. I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been. For both of you. But it’s over and you’re both okay. You’re healing.” 

What was Tony healing from? A concussion? Hypothermia? What was Peter healing from? A loss of a limb. His arm. Tony didn’t feel any pity for himself. “How is he?” Tony asked. “You said he’s stable.”

“He is. Do you want to go see him? He’s got a big room and May and Happy are already camped out in there.” Rhodey moved his hand from his shoulder to run through Tony’s hair. It was a comforting gesture that he hadn’t done in years. Tony missed it. 

Feeling Rhodey’s fingers brush against his scalp was enough to calm him from the realization of May knowing. “She saw him?”

Rhodey wasn’t his best friend for nothing. He knew exactly what Tony was thinking. He always did. “She’s not mad at you, Tony.”

“I cut off her baby’s arm.” 

“You saved her baby’s life.” Rhodey sighed. “I feel like I'm a broken record here. Do you not realize that if you had done anything differently, he would have died?”

“I could have gone back and then got help and just had you guys meet us--.” 

“And make the kid wait even longer in the cold? Tony, he was already bleeding and freezing. You didn’t have access to much of anything.” 

Tony shook his head. “I should have been able to lift it off of him. If it weren’t for this bum arm.” He used his other hand to punch the forearm. It was already throbbing in a dull pain and his knuckles only awoke the pain. 

Rhodey grabbed his good arm. “Don’t do that shit, Tony. You wouldn’t have been able to. Peter couldn’t even with his strength.” 

Tony’s head shot up. “Don’t mention that to him. It wasn’t his fault-- he was half-conscious and he was cold and bleeding. It wasn’t his fault.” 

Rhodey raised his hands in defense. “I wasn’t blaming him, man. But maybe you should use that same thinking for yourself. It was neither of your faults. It was literally nobody’s fault.” 

Tony sighed, looking down at his lap. 

“So, can we go see Peter now? I’ve got a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt here for you. They’re warm.” 

Tony chewed on his lip. He knew Peter probably never wanted to see him again, but selfishly, Tony wanted to see him just to know he was okay. And to replace that last memory of him, bleeding out, with him alive and well. “Fine.” 

Rhodey breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

After a few minutes with help from Rhodey, Tony was dressed in the change of clothes he had. He guessed they were Steve’s by the way they fit and by the paint stains on the sweatshirt. He wasn’t going to complain though because they were warm. Steve was always cold (even during the summertime), so he had the warmest clothes. Tony knew that because he was the one that made sure FRIDAY ordered him some each winter season. 

“If you even think about pulling out a wheelchair, I’ll shank you with the sharpest thing in this room,” Tony warned as they both slowly made their way to the doorway. Between Rhodey’s legs and Tony’s...everything...they were going at a rate of one step per twenty seconds. 

“We’d probably be there already,” Rhodey grunted when they finally got to the hallway. 

Tony felt bad for putting a lot of his weight on Rhodey, but there was no way he could hold himself up right now. And there was also no way that he was using a wheelchair. “We would not.” 

Rhodey just grunted again in response as they hobbled down the hallway. Thankfully, Peter’s room wasn’t too far from Tony’s and only a handful of minutes later, they were standing outside his door. Breathing heavily, Tony shifted his weight against the wall. 

“I hate you,” Rhodey said, straightening up. 

“No, you don’t,” Tony said, after many long and deep breaths. “Now just help me through this door and then you’re off nurse duty.” 

Rhodey rolled his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Tony’s back. “I’m never of nurse duty when it comes to you.” 

Which, fair, but it wasn’t like Tony wasn’t appreciative. He always thanked Rhodey. Sometimes with great tickets to a Knicks game and other times with a full view of him naked when he passed out in the shower. Okay, that last one had only happened three times, but Rhodey probably enjoyed the view. 

He shoved open the door and helped Tony in before it shut on them again. Once they were inside, there was no turning back. Suddenly, Tony wished he had paused outside the door to more than just catch his breath. He should have prepared or gotten himself ready. For May’s scolding and for the arm-- the absence of the arm. 

He just wanted to see the kid so damn bad. 

“Tony, you’re awake!” That was May’s voice, but it wasn’t angry. She sounded relieved. 

Tony glanced over to her and even though she wasn’t moving from her chair next to Peter’s bed, her eyes were glued on him. Happy was sitting next to her, his chair as close to hers as physically possible. He was looking at Tony with relief and concern still clouded in his eyes. His hand was tight on May’s and even though Tony liked to play it up when he was around Peter, for the kid’s sake, he actually thought they were sweet together. May was good at staying cool with the relationship but still showering Happy with love and affection, whereas Happy couldn’t go one day without blushing and stumbling around her. They had been dating for months and Happy acted as if they were on their first date every day. It was sweet, but Tony hoped he wasn’t like that with Pepper. That would just be embarrassing.

“Heard there was a party. I was never one to be not invited.” He tried to keep his voice light to ignore the elephant in the room. He hadn’t even  _ looked  _ Peter’s way yet. 

“We weren’t sure when you were going to wake up, but you didn’t have to come all the way in here. We would have come to see you.” 

“I know, but I want to see the kid,” Tony said. They all knew why he was here. Why everyone was here. 

“You can come here. Talk to him. He’s been up and down. Nothing coherent yet.” May didn’t move, but Happy did. He was quick to stand up and come over to Tony. 

“Take my seat. You shouldn’t be on your feet.” He took Tony from Rhodey’s hold and led him back over to the chair. He lowered him down and the seat cushion was warm. Happy and May probably hadn’t moved from these spots since they were allowed in the room. 

“Thanks, Hap,” Tony mumbled, still unable to look Peter’s way. 

Happy patted him on the shoulder once before bringing another chair over, this time for Rhodey to finally sit down. Happy sat on the arm of the chair once Rhodey was settled. Tony watched them for no other reason other than to distract himself. 

Then, there was a hand squeezing his. “Look at him, Tony.” 

Tony felt his cheeks burn when he was caught. 

“I know it’s scary, but it’s okay. It’s better than what you last saw. It’s better than anything you’re imagining.” May’s voice was soft and gentle. Tony didn’t deserve it. 

“This is my fault,” he whispered, afraid that if he tried to speak any louder, his voice would just break and he’d lose it. 

“It is,” May agreed and Tony felt his entire world stop turning right then. He knew it. He’d told Rhodey--. “It is completely, 100%, undeniably your fault that Peter is alive right now.” 

Tony furrowed his brow and looked up at her in confusion. “No. He’s literally here because of me. Even if I did save his life, it was only in danger because I took him to the stupid cabin.”   
“You took him on vacation, Tony, and something went wrong. That’s not your fault. He could get hurt doing anything, but I’m glad he’s with you to save him if needed. There’s no one else I trust him with more.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

May raised her eyebrows. “Hey, Stark, answer this...what happened after I found out Peter was Spider-Man?”

Tony shifted uncomfortably at the use of that moniker. She hadn’t called him that in years. “I don’t remember much. Therapist says it’s for my own safety. Brain trying to block out the traumatic memories and all that.” 

May rolled her eyes with a hint of a smile on her lips. “Well, I remember it clear as day, so I’ll give you a hint. I refused to let Peter see you for the rest of his life. He was to give up Spider-Man and say goodbye to you.”

Tony cringed, remembering the long few weeks that he’d gone without seeing the kid. Honestly, back then, it hadn’t been too much of a difference. He never saw the kid more than Germany so having him banned from seeing him really didn’t affect him. He thought it would be easy to just say goodbye. But then the voicemails had stopped and Tony found himself wondering every night what little things Spidey was doing for New York (because even if May took away Spider-Man, there was no way Peter was actually following that rule) and then he realized that he wanted to know the kid. He wanted a chance. So he called May endlessly. He called her and made every argument in the book on why Peter was safer as Spider-Man with Tony as his mentor, and eventually, it worked. It wasn’t sunshine and rainbows right away, but slowly, Stark had become Tony and weekly rundowns of patrols became nightly calls of just about anything. Mr. Stark and Aunt May had become Tony & May: co-parenting extraordinaires. 

“When I mean something, I mean it. If I didn’t want you near him after this, there’s no way you have gotten through that doorway. So stop with your guilt bullshit and just let yourself heal from this. Peter isn't the only one hurt." 

Tony tried brushing her concerns off. "I'm fine. Just a concussion. I've had worse." 

May's voice grew soft again. "Tony, you had to be the one to cut his arm off." Tony wondered how she was able to say it without pausing to catch her breath or clear her mind. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like for you." 

"Peter is--."

"Asleep right now," she finished for him, even though that wasn't what he wanted to say at all. "When he wakes up, he'll get his own round of over protection. For now, it's your turn." 

Tony felt Rhodey and Happy staring at him as he shifted in his seat. They all knew. They all knew that he stole Peter's arm from him and they didn't care? They didn't want to protect him from him? "It wasn't a big deal." 

May laughed but nothing was funny. "Tony, what did I just say? Literally a minute ago? We both know what happened was a big deal and I know you might not want to think too much about it, but I want to thank you for saving my son's life." 

"May, why--." 

A groan from Peter had him snapping his mouth shut. 

Tony's gut instinct was to run. 

May refused to let him. 

He shot her a side-eye glance and she gave him a look that let him know he wasn’t going anywhere. He clenched his jaw, staring down at his knees. He wanted to see Peter desperately, but he didn’t want to see his arm-- or what was left of his arm. 

“Peter, baby, can you hear me?” May asked and Tony heard Happy walk closer. 

Peter mumbled something back, but it was unintelligible. 

“Careful, kid,” Happy said in a voice that Tony wasn’t used to him using so often nowadays. 

“Mis’r S’ark,” he muttered, his voice louder. 

Tony’s head shot up and he felt everyone’s eyes turn to him. He stared at Peter for the first time, but because he was purposely trying to avoid it, his eyes fell to the bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He couldn’t see it, but he remembered it. He remembered it all too clearly. 

Forcing his eyes back to Peter’s face, he answered, “Yeah, I-I’m here, bud.” 

Despite the blankets covering him, Peter shivered. “‘M cold.” 

“We’re gonna get it warmer in here for you,” Tony said, getting ready to stand up and get out of there, but May’s hand was still tight on his. 

“There’s a button right here that we can use to call the nurse, Tony.” May was already pressing the button next to Peter. 

“Nurse?” Peter sighed, letting his eyes shut. “That means I’m in the hospital again.” 

Happy let out a chuckle. “Yeah, Pete. Tower to be exact. But patrolling didn’t bring you in here.” 

“Was with Mr. Stark. We were campin’.” 

“That was not camping. If anything, that was glamping,” Rhodey scoffed. “Tony Stark glams up everything. He’s toilet seats are  _ heated.”  _

Tony bit his lip, refraining from saying anything. He didn’t understand how everyone could be so calm and normal in this situation. There was nothing  _ normal  _ about it. 

“Huh. Gonna have to go camping then. Tent and sleeping bag. Nothing else.” Peter shivered again. “Okay. Maybe a heater too.” 

Peter was joking around like he always did after an injury. He didn’t like May worrying about him, so he kept a smile on his face. But Tony knew that it wasn’t going to last. Not when he realized. 

“Why don’t we just pause our trips for a bit,” May suggested, her voice beginning to waver. “Give yourself a few minutes to recover from this.” 

The room went silent as Peter laughed. “It’s just a little--” He shivered once again, his teeth chattering. “Hypothermia, I’m guessing.” He paused and opened his eyes. “Head pounding too. So, what? Concussion?”

Any other time, Tony would have cracked a joke about Peter being able to self-diagnosis himself because of how many times he’d been hurt before. But this time it was different because he was missing another major injury. 

He wanted to tell Peter because he was the one that did it and he didn’t want May to have to. But he just couldn’t get the words out. He opened his mouth and Peter stared at him, waiting for him to say  _ something.  _

“There’s something else, baby,” May said for him, dragging Peter’s attention. Tony loved that woman. That strong and brave woman. “Your arm-- it…” 

“What about it? It’s bothering me and I know it got stuck on the mountain.” He turned to Tony with his lopsided smile. “What’d ya do, Mr. Stark? Snap it out of there?”

_ “Peter,”  _ Tony said, unable to say anything else. 

“He had no other choice, honey. It was that or letting you die there.” She reached a hand over and if it were still there, she would have grabbed Peter’s hand. But she halted, dropping her hand to the mattress last minute. 

Peter frowned before glancing down to his side. It didn’t click. Tony could still see the confusion in his eyes. He wanted to look away, but he was too focused on Peter’s reaction. What would he do? Tony watched him intently as his frown deepened and he slowly lifted the blanket off of himself.

Tony knew the moment he realized what happened. 

Peter wore his heart on his sleeve and in his eyes. He could always tell exactly how Peter was feeling just by looking into his big brown eyes. And right now, he was scared. 

Tony wanted to tell him it was going to be okay. He wanted to tell him that losing an arm wouldn’t stop him from doing whatever the hell he wanted. He wanted to tell him that he was going to beat this. But when he opened his mouth, all he could say was, “I’m so  _ sorry,  _ Peter.” 

Peter looked over to his other arm and lifted it up slowly, wiggling his fingers. Then he looked back at the empty space next to him. With the hand he still had, he placed it where his other arm should have been laying. He shivered with another harsh chill, but Tony doubted it had anything to do with the cold. 

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I didn’t-- God, I’m just sorry,” Tony continued to babble on. 

Peter’s arm was shaking when he looked back up at them. His watery eyes landed on Tony. 

“It’s gone,” he whispered in horror.

Then, everybody was talking at once. 

“Peter, I’m sorry.” 

“Baby, I’m right here.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“He had to, kid.” 

“Sorry--.”

“Pete, you’re gonna be alright.” 

“So  _ sorry.”  _

Peter cut them all off with a low and empty voice. “Can you leave?”

Tony felt his heart plummet into his stomach. 

“Sweetheart, don’t be upset with Tony,” May started to defend his honor, gentle but firm. 

“Not just him,” Peter replied, staring at where his arm was supposed to be. Tony could see a fat tear rolling down his cheek. “All of you.”

May’s brow furrowed as Rhodey and Happy exchanged a glance. “Sweetie, are you sure?” 

“I want to be alone.”

He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry without having an audience. Tony didn’t think he should be dealing with this alone, but he thought he deserved at least a few minutes to himself. Tony would want privacy to collect himself. 

He definitely wouldn’t want to look at the man that had done it to him. 

“Yeah, ‘course, kiddo,” Tony said, avoiding Peter’s gaze just as well as he was avoiding everyone’s. “If you need anything, just press the button.” 

May wasn’t as eager to leave. She stood up but stopped by his bedside, putting a hand on his thigh. Peter flinched because they all knew her hand should have been holding onto his. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” 

“I need longer than that.” 

“Peter,--.” 

“I’ll have a nurse get you when I’m ready,” he said, still refusing to look up at her. 

Tony noticed him really struggling to hold back the tears now, so he grabbed May’s hand. “C’mon, May,” he whispered. “Let’s go get a coffee.” 

Rhodey and Happy were already out of the room and Tony followed them, dragging May behind him. Once they were in the hallway, May covered her mouth with her hands and Happy was immediately pulling her into a hug. She melted in his hold, hiding her face against his chest as he began to sob. 

Tony felt his own knees grow weak as it all began to sink in. That was probably the last time he was ever going to see Peter. There was no way he would ever want to see him again. 

“Let’s get away from the doorway,” Happy suggested after pressing a kiss to the top of May’s head. “Kid can still hear us.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered again, staring at the closed door. “I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Peter didn’t call anyone back in until over an hour later. May was on her feet within the second and Happy was right on her heels. Tony didn’t move and Rhodey stayed with him. “You can go see him,” Tony said, scoffing the toe of the hospital sock he was wearing against the floor. 

“Figured I’d wait here with you,” Rhodey said. “Don’t need too many of us overwhelming him.” 

Tony sighed heavily, leaning back in the chair and knocked his head against the wall. It hurt his already concussed head, but he didn’t care. “Did you see the look in his eyes, Rhodes? He’s never going to forgive me.” 

“He doesn’t even blame you, man. You’re the only one putting all this blame on yourself.” Usually, Rhodey was always right. So why was he lying now? 

“I cut off his arm. He-- he was crying. That was  _ my fault.”  _ Why did he always make this kid cry? 

“Give him some time. He just needs to adjust. Get over the shock. It’s a lot to deal with. And I think your self blaming is doing nothing but suffocating him. So, just cool it. You’re  _ fine.”  _

Tony wasn’t fine. He was never going to be fine. But Rhodey wouldn’t understand. “Yeah.” 

Rhodey sighed. “C’mon, Tony, don’t give me this attitude.” 

“There’s no attitude,” Tony snapped. “I just need to  _ cool down.  _ Everything’s  _ fine.”  _

“I didn’t mean it like--.”

“I know how you meant it.” 

Rhodey paused and for a moment, Tony thought he was going to keep arguing. He usually didn’t; Rhodey had learned how stubborn Tony was early on in their relationship. He stood up, his braces whirring all the way up. “I’m gonna go join Happy and May. You need some rest. I’ll stop by later.” 

Tony watched him go, wondering if that was the last time he’d ever see Rhodey too. 

* * *

May was the one that made it back to his room, hours later. Tony is still laying in his own hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. His hypothermia was getting better and so was the concussion. Peter's arm wasn't. 

He had only been on his phone earlier for a few moments before his headache begged against it. Pepper texted him, wanting to bring Morgan to the tower and see him, but Tony didn’t want to upset her. He’d be out soon and then he would be able to see her. If she came here, then she’d see her Daddy in the hospital and get scared and she’d wonder where Peter was and then that would be an entire other mess. 

“Hey,” May said in a soft voice as she stuck her head in. “Happy went to get dinner with James. Do you wanna come sit with Peter?”

“Where are you going?” Tony asked, not moving from his spot. 

“I’m just running to the bathroom, but I’d like some company when I get back.” She gave him a tired smile. 

Tony tugged on a loose thread from the blanket on his lap, watching it slowly grow longer as it unraveled. “Does he even want to see me?”

“You know he does,” she answered after a second of hesitation. “He’s just having a tough time right now.” 

Tony knew he was. This was one of the toughest times he would ever face. He didn’t want to make it any worse on Peter by being there, constantly reminding him of what happened. 

May sense his hesitation. “Just go in there, Tony. It’ll be okay. He’s still Peter.” Then she was gone from the doorway, leaving Tony alone to his thoughts. He could easily ignore her and just pretend to be asleep when she came back in to check if he was still there. 

It sounded pretty good. 

But in the end, he decided to go see the kid. He’d been dying to just...talk to him since it all happened. The last conversation they’d had was before the avalanche. They were talking about the coffee they had only moments before. Well, Tony had coffee and Peter had hot chocolate, but just like always, he insisted on trying his coffee to be an adult. And just like always, he spit it right back out. He was waiting for his taste buds to mature. 

Once he made up his mind, he carefully got himself out of the bed. Ignoring the wheelchair by his door, he hobbled through the hallway, leaning on the wall for support. He was running through what he was going to say through his head. Unfortunately, he had too many different possible paths of the conversation he could take. Serious, funny, apologetic...his options were unlimited and by the time he got to Peter’s door, he still hadn’t picked. 

So he went with the option he usually chose: winging it. Whatever he felt like the situation called for, Tony would do. 

But when he walked inside, the plan of any talk was ruined by seeing that the other half of the conversation was asleep. He debated just walking back out to his own room again, but he didn’t think he’d make the walk. Besides, if Peter was asleep, then he wouldn’t have to worry about upsetting the kid while still making sure he was okay. 

Without another thought, he made his over to the two empty seats by Peter’s bed. The one closest was May’s no doubt so he took the other seat. Once he was sitting, he sighed heavily and finally, took a good look at Peter. The gash on his forehead was already scabbing up and by tomorrow, it would be a puffy pink scar before fading away completely. Tony’s would probably stay forever, along with the memory of what he did. 

Peter looked warm but not comfortable. It was probably hard to find a new way to sleep with one less limb. Tony studied him closer and that’s when he realized that Peter’s chest wasn’t rising and falling in the normal way it did when he was asleep. He’d fallen asleep on Tony more than enough times for him to know exactly how he breathed when he was asleep. He listened closely for his soft snores that were always there when he slept through a movie. Nothing. His face wasn’t relaxed in a deep sleep. 

Peter was  _ pretending  _ to be asleep. 

One night, years ago, he had mentioned to Tony that he could determine one person from another (if he was close to them) just by their breathing and even heartbeat. Everyone had their own distinct pattern and something to clued him in to know exactly who was in the room with him without even looking. 

So, he knew Tony was sitting here, finally. He knew they were alone. He knew they had a lot to talk about. And he kept sleeping. 

Tony sat there stiffly, waiting for May to come back and he let him sleep. The snores never came that night, even hours later when May, Happy, and Rhodey had come back. His eyes stayed closed though. 

Even when Tony said his goodnights to go back to his own room. He would have stayed if he didn’t feel like he was losing his mind.

“Night, Pete,” he whispered to him after giving May a kiss. There was no answer. There were snores. 

_ Does he even want me there?  _

Well, he had his answer now.

* * *

Tony didn’t see him again more than a few minutes after that night for two weeks. Peter wanted to go back to his apartment after he was released from Cho’s care. He was there when she went through all of the things they’d have to worry about in the recovery. It was a lot to handle...both physically and mentally for Peter. 

He had expected Peter to want to stay in the tower at least a few more weeks. He always did when he was hurt worse than normal. But he didn’t. He asked Cho when he could go home-- home as in Happy and May’s apartment-- and the minute he was allowed to go, he was gone. 

He never called Tony or even said goodbye. They still hadn’t had much of a conversation since the day of the avalanche. Peter hadn't even asked if Tony was okay yet. That meant he really didn't want to see him around. He didn't even care. 

So, Tony gave him that space. He didn't argue it because even though he felt like he  _ needed  _ Peter in his own recovery, that didn't mean Peter needed him. 

He spoke to May and Happy on the phone every night, just to check in and ensure everything was going okay. The other night was when May had suggested Tony coming over for dinner and Happy immediately loved the idea. 

Tony hated it. The kid didn't want to see him. Why should he go over and invade his safe space? But he hadn't won the argument. 

Which was why he was taking a deep breath before knocking on the front door. Sure, he had a key, but it didn't feel right to use. 

May opened the door, looking slightly confused. "Forget the key?" She asked, stepping aside. 

He didn't forget it. It was always on him, dangling from his Spider-Man key chain with only his most important keys. "Yeah. Sorry." 

"That's alright. Come on in. Happy is just finishing up dinner. You can help set the table." 

Tony knew that was Peter's chore. He was to set and clear the table each night for dinner. When Tony was over, he was the one in charge of washing the dishes. Together, it never felt like a chore. 

Tony walked into the kitchen and saw Happy pulling a tray out of the oven. He glanced over his shoulder with a smile. "Hey, Tones. Hope you like pork chops. We've got some apple sauce too. Kid loves dipping it in there." 

Tony knew that. Of course, he did. Why was Happy talking to him like he was the stranger? Tony used to be the one that knew Peter like the back of his hand and Happy was the clueless one. Now it felt like their roles were reversed. "Sounds good," he muttered as he walked over to the cabinets and started pulling out four of everything. 

May took one of the plates and brought it over to Happy. Tony watched Happy put a pork chop on the plate before May began to cut it up into small bite-size pieces. Happy poured some apple sauce on the other side of the plate. Then she brought the plate back to the table and set it in Peter's usual spot. 

"Start serving before he gets here, babe," May whispered, putting a hand on Happy's shoulder. 

Happy did so as May called over her shoulder. "Peter, dinner is ready!" 

By the time he came in, Happy was putting the tray of pork chops back on the stovetop. Tony wondered if Peter knew he was coming, but the look on his face when he saw him answered his question. 

His eyes went wide and he took a step back. He was dressed in a large sweatshirt-- too large to be Tony's. But Tony already knew it wasn't his. It looked older than Peter. The white lettering of NYPD across it was dirty with age and peeling off. It was Ben's. "Oh…" 

Tony froze, feeling just as awkward as Peter probably was. "Uh...hey, Pete. I'm guessing you didn't know I was coming tonight." 

May smiled as she pulled out a chair for Peter. "We wanted it to be a surprise! Celebrate you two feeling better!" 

Peter walked over to the seat and sat down hesitantly. May pushed him in and kissed the top of his head.

Tony stared at the sleeve of the sweatshirt that just dangled by his side. Tony thought that if he covered it, it wouldn't be as noticeable, but it was just as bad as if he'd been wearing a short sleeve. 

Peter noticed his staring and shrunk in his seat, wrapping his arm around his stomach. 

Happy cleared his throat and looked over at Tony with a glare. His voice wasn't as harsh when he spoke though. "Want to take a seat, Tony?" 

Tony nodded his head and hurried to sit down. Don't stare. He had to remember that. Even though it wasn't his fault. How could he not stare? Especially after two weeks of not seeing the kid.

He stared down at his plate and started to cut his own pork into smaller pieces. He stabbed a piece and shoved it into his mouth. "Mm, delicious, Hap." 

"Thanks, Tony," he replied, his voice tight. He wasn't upset at Tony; the situation was just...not pleasant. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter staring down at his plate and doing nothing else. Even after 15 minutes of the rest of them eating in awkward silence, he didn't touch his fork. His arm was still wrapped tightly around himself. 

Tony didn't mention it, not feeling like it was his place. Happy did, however. "Hey, Pete, don't like the pork chop tonight? Is the apple sauce touching? I kept it as separate as I could. I know how you don't like it getting soggy…" 

"Not hungry," Peter mumbled. 

"Did you eat lunch today?" May asked, staring at him with concern. 

"Yeah," Peter answered just a second too late. 

May didn't argue with him, though. She just sighed and went back to her own plate. "Alright, but try to eat a little." 

Peter huffed and glared down at his food. He mumbled something under his breath that Tony's ears couldn't pick up. No one asked him to repeat it louder. 

After they finished their food and Happy began to clear the table, Peter shrunk even smaller. May wouldn't let him go, though. "You wanna tell Tony about all the progress you've been making, baby?" 

Peter shook his head. 

Tony clenched his jaw and looked down at his full plate. His appetite wasn't there tonight. Of course, he didn't want to tell Tony. He didn't even want Tony there. 

"It's fine, May. I've gotta get going anyway. Morgan's got homework to do and...stuff…" 

"Pep can handle that," Happy replied with a raised eyebrow. "It's close to her bedtime anyway." 

Tony just wanted to get out of there. He knew Peter wanted him out of there. 

Or Peter just wanted himself out of there because suddenly, he was shoving himself out of his chair. He stumbled briefly and everyone, including Tony, reached over as if they could steady him. "I'm fine!" He snapped before rushing out of the kitchen, leaving his full plate behind him.

Once he was gone, May groaned and let her head fall forward to the table. Happy rubbed her back soothingly. "It'll be okay, May." 

"I feel like whenever we get one step forward, we take another 5 steps back." She picked her head up to look over st Tony. "He was doing good. Not...perfect, but good. We set up a routine and he doesn't complain about it as much anymore. Yesterday I swear I saw him smile." 

"We thought you'd help. You can always get him out of his funks," Happy said. "We didn't think it was going to be one of his bad days." 

"It was my fault he acted like that. I'm telling you: he doesn't want to see me." 

"Of course, he wants to see you, Tony," Happy said. "That kid adores you." 

"That was before I cut his arm off. I ruined everything. Nothing is ever going to be the same for him and it's all my fault. It's Rhodes all over again." 

"Don't talk like that, Tony. He is alive because of you. Rhodey can walk because of you. Yes, Peter will have to adjust to this new life, but that doesn't mean that he's never going to be happy in it again." 

"He's got one arm-- because of me." 

May slapped her hand over her face. "You're not listening." 

"Tony," Happy tried, "this kid needs you. And I know right now, you're beating yourself up pretty good, but I know if you could just sit with him and  _ talk  _ then he'd start feeling just a little bit better." 

"He doesn't even want to be in the same room as me!" Tony exclaimed, while still trying to keep his voice down. He didn't want Peter to hear them arguing. 

"This is still new to him. He didn't leave his room for four days when we first brought him home. Just...please give it a chance. Give him a chance." 

"To make his life even worse?" Tony scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Stop that crap," May said before a smile grew on her face. "I've got an idea. You're spending the night with him." 

Tony blinked his eyes. "I'm sorry,  _ what?"  _

"Tomorrow. Happy and I will go out and spend the night at a hotel. We've had points saved up and we could honestly use the break. You spend the night with him here. It'll just be the two of you, so he'll be more likely to open up to you." 

"Do you remember what happened the last time you left him alone with me?" Tony did. He’d never forget it. 

“Tony, did you cause an avalanche to do this to him?” May asked incredulously. 

“Obviously not, but--.” 

“Shut up. Tomorrow, you’re coming over here. You’ve got him from dinner to breakfast. It’ll be fine, Tony. He’s the same Peter you always knew.” 

“But--.” 

“Shut up,” she repeated. “No buts.” 

“May, you can’t--.” 

“I can and I am. Come back here tomorrow at 5. Don’t be late. I have plans.” She turned to Happy and smirked before pecking his lips. 

Tony looked away with a gag. “Pepper and I are never this gross.” 

“You totally are. You have been for over 10 years,” Happy replied as May stood up. 

“I’m going to check on Peter. Don’t stay up too late, boys.” 

“I’m headed back home anyway…” 

“And I’ll see you again tomorrow!” She said, leaving the room before he could argue with her. 

“You know you’re coming, right? No one can say no to her. Believe me, I’ve tried. Every time she wants to go to that Thai place on third where the waiter flirts with her all night. I don’t care how good the food is.” 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed heavily. “I know.”

* * *

May and Happy had been gone for twenty minutes and Tony still hadn't seen Peter. They told him that today they let him know Tony would be coming, so there'd be no shock like last night. 

They thought it would help, but it was only helping Peter avoid Tony. It was too early to start on dinner and he hoped maybe he'd want to watch a movie with him, but he was holed up in his room. 

They wouldn't get anywhere if he kept hiding, so Tony summoned whatever courage he had left and made his way down the hall. Peter was just a teenage kid. The sweetest kid in the world. There was literally no reason to be afraid of him. But Tony was terrified. 

He took a deep breath as he stopped outside Peter's bedroom door. He rapped his knuckles against the wood and held his breath, waiting for a response. 

"Doing homework," Peter replied a moment later. 

Tony leaned his forehead against the door and kept his hand raised as if he was going to knock again. "Can I come in?" 

There was a pause and Tony thought he was going to just ignore him. But then he answered. "Yeah." 

Tony breathed a sigh of relief before he opened the door and stopped in the doorway. He saw Peter sitting at his desk, writing in a notebook. He continued to write and didn't even pause to look up at Tony. "I thought we could watch a movie before dinner." 

"I'm doing homework," Peter repeated like a broken record. Peter wasn't back to school yet, but Happy picked up a few assignments from the school for him to finish. 

"I heard," Tony said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "How about you join me in the living room? I haven't seen you in weeks."

"I have to get this done," Peter muttered, staring intently down at his paper. 

Tony walked up behind him, making sure he didn't even glance at his left side. "Seems real interesting," he murmurs before grabbing the textbook and notebook, one in each hand. 

Peter shouted as he turned around to face Tony. He didn't try to reach for either one. "Give them back, Mr. Stark." 

"Come do your work in the kitchen while I make dinner." He took a step backward. 

"I need to focus and doing it near you will only be a distraction." 

That was wrong. They had a routine. Peter always did his homework in the lab and Tony left him alone. Peter got his work done in less than an hour so they could start on the real fun stuff. "You know I'll leave you alone, but if you need help with any of it, I can help out." 

"I don't," Peter snapped. "Now  _ please  _ give me my stuff." 

He was so mad at him. Tony knew that. But he didn't want to leave it that way. "Come sit with me. Please." 

Peter stared at him before groaning. "Fine." He stood up and crossed his arm over his chest before he realized there wasn't another to finish the stance and dropped it to his side. He still had Ben's sweatshirt on.

"Good boy," Tony said with a grin as he walked out of his room, hoping Peter was following. 

"I'm not a dog," Peter said, letting Tony know that he was right behind him. 

"I know. Dogs are better behaved. Usually potty trained." 

He couldn't see him, but he knew Peter was rolling his eyes. He stopped by the couch and dropped the textbook and notebook on the side table. He hoped Peter grabbed his pencil. "Sit here. We can watch a movie before I get dinner ready." 

Peter flopped on the couch and curled in a ball, turning himself away from Tony. "I need to focus." 

Tony fell to the cushion next to him and sighed. "Okay, no movie then." He picked up the remote to find something to keep himself occupied but the only thing he knew about on TV was Morgan's channels. He found himself switching to a cartoon and watching it mindlessly. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Peter getting right back into his work. He had the textbook balanced on the arm of the couch as he pulled the notebook into his lap. It took a few tries for him to get it settled, but soon, he was back to scribbling away on the paper. 

Tony sighed and stared at the TV, not really watching it. Every so often he'd hear Peter grunt in frustration and at first, Tony thought he was having trouble with a question. "What're you working on, squirt?" 

"Physics," Peter replied shortly with another grunt and a rustle of his papers. Peter knew physics like he knew Star Wars. He shouldn't need help with that. 

Tony glanced over at Peter and saw him having trouble balancing his notebook on his lap while he tried to flip through the textbook. Every time he shifted, the notebook started to slip and Peter had to stop searching through his book to grab it. It was a vicious cycle. 

Tony cleared his throat. "You want me to hold the textbook for you? Read the parts you need out loud?"

Peter froze when Tony asked this. "I'm fine." He stopped moving and just stared down at his notebook. 

He wasn't. 

Tony shifted and started to move closer to him. "Come on, kid. I don't mind helping you out." 

"No thank you!" Peter jerked away, but the sudden movement had all of his papers and books falling to the ground. Peter immediately got up and started to try and pick it all up. He grumbled to himself, but it was still loud enough for Tony to hear.  _ "This  _ is why I wanted to stay in my room." 

Tony tried not to let the attitude bother him. Peter was just frustrated. "You can go back to your room. I'm sorry." 

He continued to try and stack everything into a pile, but he was too frazzled to get it all to stay without it all giving him a hard time. He knocked over his pile for the sixth time and then decided the answer was to use his hand to shove the papers and books across the room. 

Tony went still as Peter realized what he did, chest heaving. He stared around the room and it was too much of a mess now for Peter to take care of it himself. He pushed himself up and kicked the textbook by his foot. It went sliding across the floor and hit the far wall with a loud thud. 

"I'm going back to my room. I'm not hungry so don't bother."

Tony knew Peter was having a tough time, but he was still a child and Tony was his guardian right now. "You didn't eat yesterday and I doubt you ate today. You're going to eat dinner today. You  _ need _ to eat. You can hide in your room again right after." 

Peter squeezed his hand in a fist, kicked at the floor even though he didn't move the loose paper very far. "Whatever. Fine." Then he was stomping back to his room. 

Tony waited a minute as he surveyed the mess of the room before he let out a shaky breath and dropped his head in his hands. He was only making everything worse. Peter  _ hated  _ him. 

* * *

Tony only made a big dinner because he knew Peter needed food. He knew what happened when his spider body didn't get all the food it needed. 

So he searched through their cabinets and decided to make a dinner that Peter would love. He needed something to go right.

Once he had the table set and the food on the plates, he called Peter back into the kitchen. It took a few minutes before Peter finally came back in. His hair was mussed like he'd been lying down all that time and his eyes were red. Tony looked away. "Eat up. Got some creamed corn for you and chicken with some mashed potatoes. I've got dessert too if you go through all this."

Peter stared down at the plate in front of him overloaded with food. He licked his lips and his stomach rumbled loudly. Tony laughed, feeling some of the tension slip away. 

"Dig in, buddy," Tony said, gesturing with his fork before he began to do the same. He began to cut his chicken up, taking one bite after another. 

He didn't stare over at Peter, hoping to give him some privacy while he ate. Peter got nervous when people stared, not that he was surprised or blamed him. 

He heard Peter's fork scrape against the plate as he began to eat. Tony ate his own food, wondering what they could talk about. The elephant was still in the room, but Tony didn't want to upset him when he was finally eating. 

After too long of an awkward silence, Tony cleared his throat. "So...I was thinking maybe after this we could watch a movie? Go get comfy on the couch and watch one of your nerdy sci-fi movies." 

Surprisingly, Peter said, "Sure…" 

Tony tried not to let the shock show. "Got any ideas in mind?" 

"No." 

While his answer was curt, it was  _ something  _ and Tony didn't want to lose him. "That's fine. We can look through Netflix and see if they've got anything good." 

"Okay." More scraping against the plate before Peter dropped the fork to the ground. Tony's first instinct was to run over and help him, but then he stopped. He remembered May's words: this was the same old Peter. Would Tony have jumped out of his chair any other time to pick up Peter's fork? No way. So why should he do it now? 

Peter scrambled out of his chair and picked up his fork as quickly as he could. When he sat back down, clenching the fork tightly in his hand, he glanced over at Tony anxiously. 

Tony acted like it never happened. "We could maybe step outside your comfort zone with movies. Watch something else. Maybe a stupid comedy?" 

Peter's grip on his fork relaxed slightly. "I don't get how you like those. I feel my brain cells killing themselves as I watch them." 

Tony laughed, remembering all of Peter's dramatic complaining the first time he showed him one of Will Ferrell's older movies. Peter couldn't stand him (except as Buddy the Elf) and Tony found his commentary even funnier than the movie itself. "You've picked the movie the last dozen movie nights. It's my turn now." 

Peter rolled his eyes. "Fine. But not Step Brothers. I saw you add it to your list and I'm not sitting through that." 

"A classic! And what are you doing on my profile anyway? You have your own." 

Despite the time between their last normal conversation and this one, it felt like they'd never missed a day. 

Soon, they were laughing back and forth, bantering with ease. This was how it was supposed to be. Before everything else happened. 

In fact, Tony had forgotten Peter was even missing his other arm until he tried using his fork to cut through the chicken and he used too much force, hitting the brim of the plate and catapulting the food into the air. It seemed to happen in slow motion as it hit Peter, some on his face but most of it on his chest. 

Peter shoved his chair away as best as he could, but he seemed to forget he only had one arm too and when he leaned towards his left side, his arm wasn't there to grab the table and support his weight. He fell right to the floor, bringing the plate down with him. 

Now when Tony heard him grunt and hit the floor, followed by the glass plate shattering, he was up on his feet immediately. He ran around the table and kneeled next to him. He brushed some food from his hair as he put a hand on his arm. "Pete, are you okay?" 

"Stop!" Peter yelled, his face still against the floor. 

"I'm not going to just leave you here on the floor--." Tony tried pulling on his arm to lift him up, but Peter jerked himself out of his hold and fell back to the floor. He did his best to push himself away with only one arm. 

"I said stop it!" He kicked his feet, trying to get away from Tony and the mess of food on the floor.

Tony huffed but didn't stand up. "Peter, I know it's frustrating and I'm sorry, but you can't push me away when I'm the only one here."

"I don't need you here!" Peter shouted. "I can do just fine on my own!" 

Peter was a hormonal teenager that had just lost his arm. He had a right to be upset. Tony just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, uh huh. I'm real convinced. Just let me help you up and then I'll call May and I'll be out of your hair." 

"No!" Peter shouted. "Don't call May. She's having fun...I'll be fine on my own." 

Tony stared at him incredulously. "Do you ever get tired of spewing all that bullshit?" 

His attitude was seeming to only make Peter's worse. "I didn't ask for you to come here and  _ help  _ me! I was better off on my own!" 

"If you were alone, you would have gone another day without eating. That's not  _ okay."  _

"I would have gotten something I can actually eat! Not like this chicken-- I can't even cut it. I know Happy and May treat me like a baby with food, but at least I can eat what they give me!" 

Tony felt like an asshole. He had forgotten to cut Peter's chicken into smaller pieces. Of course, he couldn't do that on his own...not without making a mess, obviously. "Why didn't you just ask me to cut it for you?" Tony asked in a low voice. He didn't want to argue. Not when he saw Peter's eyes filling with tears. 

"Why do you always want me asking for help?" Peter countered. "I'm supposed to learn to do all this on my own. I can't rely on others." 

Tony sighed, remembering how Rhodey had wanted to go sprinting the first day of physical therapy. He hated having Tony there to be his crutch. But it wasn't a quick process. The sooner Rhodey had realized that, the sooner he had begun to heal. "Peter, you can't just expect to be fine like usual so soon with no work. I don't know much of the-- of how it's healing...but I know that it's still fresh. And you're going to have to give it time." 

"I'll be fine. You don't always have to watch me and just wait for me to screw up." 

"I've  _ always _ kept an eye on you, waiting for you to screw up. Even before--..."  _ Before you lost your arm? Before I cut it off? _

Peter grew tenser despite Tony's joking tone. "I don't need help. I don't need you to hold my textbooks. I don't need you to cut up my food. I don't need you here for anything." 

He knew words said in anger were rarely meant, but it still hurt him to hear. "Peter…" 

"No. Just leave. Just  _ go."  _

"Hate to break it to you, kid," Tony said. "But I'm not going anywhere." 

"Fine. But I am. I'm going to my room and don't bother coming after me. I don't want dinner. I don't want dessert. I don't want a movie. I don't want pity. I just want you gone!" 

Tony felt frozen in his spot as if Peter had punched him right in the gut with those words. 

He watched as Peter struggled one last time to push himself up to his feet. He should have told him to stay. He shouldn't have let him go off angry. But he did. 

Peter stormed off, leaving Tony on the kitchen floor, wondering if he was ever going to get his Peter back. 

* * *

He poured himself a glass of wine...more than he should have been drinking, but he needed something and this was the only alcohol they had in their apartment. It sat on the coffee table in the living room for a half-hour with Tony just staring at it. It wasn’t like he was about to drink an entire bottle of Jack Daniels. He just wanted a little drink before bed...there was nothing wrong with that. 

He lifted the glass, careful not to spill any of it over the rim when he brought it closer to his lips. But before he could take a sip, he heard a scream. Not just a surprised yell or a panicked shout. It was a full-blown blood-curdling  _ scream.  _

And unfortunately, he knew that scream. He knew exactly who it belonged to. With no grace or care, he slammed the glass down on the table and jumped to his feet. If any of the wine spilled onto the floor, Tony would pay to have it cleaned, but it wasn’t really at the top of his list of worries. It wasn’t even close to the top because Peter was still screaming and each scream sounded like they did when Tony was cutting through his arm. 

He ran down the hallway as fast as his legs could go. When he made a quick turn, he had to use the wall to stop himself from falling over. He didn’t stop to knock on the door; he barely stopped to open it before he was rushing inside. Peter was thrashing in bed, grabbing at his shoulder as he screamed and gasped between each scream. 

Tony flipped his light switch on so maybe that would help wake him up. He hurried to Peter’s bed and grabbed the hand that was holding himself. He rolled him to his back and saw tears streaming from his pinched eyes. “Hey, bud. Hey. You’re okay.” 

Peter only cried out louder, trying to pull his arm from Tony’s hold. “Stop! Hurts!” 

He was having a nightmare of that day, Tony knew. But was he feeling it all over again? Would the pain still be there when he woke Peter up? Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he had to wake him up. He shook him harder and tried to pull Peter into his arms. “Come on, Pete. Wake up.” 

It took too long for Tony to get him awake, but soon, his screaming died into panicked wheezing and Tony saw his eyes shoot open. He thought maybe he was finally getting through to him, but that wasn’t true. Peter froze in his arms and Tony should have known was about to happen, but he didn’t until Peter was leaning forward and gagging. And vomiting all over himself. 

Tony immediately rubbed his back and spoke in a low voice. “It’s okay, bud. Get it all out.” 

Peter’s hand grabbed onto Tony’s and he squeezed it tight while Peter heaved again, emptying his stomach of what little food he had eaten in the past two days. 

Whatever tension had been between them disappeared as Peter began to sob against Tony’s chest. Tony wrapped his arms around him and held him closer. “It’s okay, bud. I’m here.” 

“I-It hurts,” Peter sobbed, wetting Tony’s shirt with his tears and snot. 

“What hurts?”

“My arm. I still-- I still feel it.” Peter reached for it again, but there was nothing to touch. “I know it’s--.” He gagged again and Tony thought he was going to throw up again, but he managed to hold it back. “I know it’s gone, but...I still feel it.” 

“Phantom pains,” Tony whispered, brushing some of his hair off his sweaty forehead. 

“There’s nothing there. I don’t have my arm...why do I still have the pain?” 

Tony hated that he was still in so much pain. All because of him. He pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe some of the sick off Peter’s chin. “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

Peter sagged against Tony’s chest and tried to even his breathing out. “It’s fine--.” 

“It’s not fine, Peter. I know you don’t want to see me anymore because of what I did...but we never-- I never got to actually apologize to you.” 

“Wait--.” 

“If I could have done anything differently, I would have. If I could trade places with you, I would. In a heartbeat.” 

Peter didn’t seem to hear that. “You think that I don’t want to see you?” 

Tony furrowed his brow. “I mean...it’s kinda obvious, kid. You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks and when I’m here, you want me anywhere else.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you,” Peter whispered. “I don’t want  _ you _ to see  _ me.”  _

Tony blinked, trying to figure out what he meant by that. “What?” 

“I can’t do  _ anything _ anymore, Mr. Stark. I can’t eat dinner, I can’t get changed, I can’t do my homework...I can’t do anything without help. I even threw up all over myself. It’s embarrassing. I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

It all clicked in Tony’s head. Tony had been making it about him this entire time when it was just about Peter. “So you don’t hate me for cutting your arm off?”

“Why would I hate you for saving my life?” Peter answered without a shadow of a doubt in his voice. 

“You really think I did?” 

“Of course. I would have just frozen to death out there. I don’t remember much of it, but I know I was stuck and there was no getting out and I was cold. And you saved me. I don’t hate you for that.” 

Tony had been hearing that from everyone for the past two weeks, but hearing it from Peter was what he needed to actually believe it. “Well, you don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me, kid. Recovery is gonna be rough, but that’s what family is here for. I’m not going to judge you. No matter what. Ask Rhodey if I ever made him feel bad about his own recovery.” 

“But he still had his legs.” 

“He had to learn to walk all over again, Peter. That’s just as bad as a hit to anyone’s ego.”

“I’ve got to learn to do everything again…” Peter said forlornly. 

“Not everything, but no matter how much you do have to relearn, you know I’ll be here every step of the way.” He looked back down to the bed in front of them and as much as he wanted to keep their heart to heart going, he knew that the mess was more important to clean up. “Starting with a shower and a bed change.” 

Peter’s cheeks burned red as he looked down at himself. “Yeah…” 

Tony looked at his clothes and was glad that most of it was on the blanket. “You go take a shower and I’ll change your sheets.” He was already standing up off the bed, but Peter didn’t move. 

“Uh…” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Peter was staring down at his lap and Tony could see his ears were bright red. “I need...help with that stuff…Happy usually helps me out. May offers, but I think it’s easier to let Happy-- he’s not my aunt and y’know, he’s a guy too so it’s not as weird and--.” 

Tony cut off Peter’s nervous rambling, even though he didn’t know exactly what Peter needed help with. “Alright. I can do that. Whatever you need.” 

“I need you to help me pull off my clothes and-- and just stand outside the shower so I can stick my hand out for soap when I need it.” 

Peter couldn’t do simple everyday tasks by himself and Tony hadn’t even realized. He was so busy with his own problems that he didn’t stop and think about how badly Peter was struggling. He couldn’t even get changed on his own. That’s probably why he was still wearing the same clothes he was wearing yesterday. He hadn’t even changed into pajamas. 

“I can do that,” Tony said, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal so that Peter felt less embarrassed by it. He leaned over and pulled the blanket off of Peter, keeping it rolled in a ball so he didn’t spread the mess. Then he took Peter’s hand in his and helped him off the bed. “I’m following your lead, bud.” 

Peter hesitated but then said, “Can you hold my sleeve while I pull my arm out?” Tony did so and Peter wiggled his arm out of the sleeve and then used his arm to push it up to his neck. “I just need you to pull up the other side and over my head.” 

Tony was careful as he did so and threw the sweatshirt into the pile with the dirty bedsheets. For the first time since it happened, Tony had a full view of Peter’s arm...or where it no longer was. The bandage was off thanks to his advanced healing and the skin was raised and pink. Tony wondered if the scarring would ever fade. 

“It doesn’t always hurt.” 

Tony snapped his eyes away from it. 

“It’s okay to look. I stare at it a lot too. Sometimes...just to remind myself that it’s really gone. I still try to use that arm. I go to grab something and it takes me a minute to realize why nothing happened. Or sometimes I feel it. I still feel it itching or stinging. But there’s nothing there.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, unsure of what else to say. 

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. It’s okay.” 

“I still have my blueprints, you know. When I thought I was going to lose my arm after the snap, I had a bionic arm ready. I never had to use it, but...I’d love to go back to them and tweak the plans for you. Only if you want to.” 

Peter didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he finally looked up at Tony. “I’d like to help you with it if I could.” 

Tony smiled. “Of course, kiddo. Whenever you want.  _ After  _ you shower.” 

"Do you mind just--." Peter looked away as he undid his pants and held onto the band of his boxers. "If I pull it just…"

"Yeah." Tony gave his pants a tug until they were past his boxers and then held his arm while he stepped out of them all the way. He picked them up when Peter kicked them off and then Tony threw them with the sheets and sweatshirt. "Alright, go get the shower started and I'll put these in the wash." 

Peter hurried out of the room, his skin tinged pink. Tony had seen him in his boxers every time he came back hurt on patrol and he needed to take the suit off. But this was different because Peter felt so embarrassed by needing help to even get ready in the shower. 

He brought the ruined clothes and sheets to the washing machine and once he finished, he went over to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Ready, Pete?" 

"Yeah," he heard Peter say, just barely audible over the shower running. 

Tony walked in and stopped by the wall by the shower and leaned against it. He noticed the three bottles of soap on the counter. "Let me know when you're ready." 

Tony stayed there waiting until Peter asked for the body soap and stuck his hand out of the curtain. Tony poured some into his palm and then did the same thing two more times for the shampoo and conditioner. 

A few times, Tony checked in just to make sure he was okay and not drowning or anything. Peter always replied with a curt answer.

When the shower turned off, Tony grabbed the towel off the counter and said, "You good with the towel?" 

"Yes," Peter snapped. "I'm sorry," he immediately apologized. "I can do this by myself." 

"Okay," Tony said and passed the towel between the wall and the curtain. Peter took it from his hand and Tony waited as Peter struggled to wrap it around himself. He heard him curse under his breath a few times before he finally pushed open the curtains. He stepped out of the tub with the towel wrapped around his waist and his hand holding it there securely. “Well, you smell better,” Tony joked, trying to break the tension. 

“I still need your help,” Peter muttered, staring down at his feet. 

“It’s okay, bud,” Tony said quickly. “Whatever you need, I’m here.” 

Peter walked past him, out the door and back into his room. Tony followed behind him and stayed out of his way as much as possible. He watched him open his drawers and pull out a pair of clean boxers and pajamas. 

“Can you turn around? I can do this part.” 

“Yeah!” Tony said, whirling around. 

“Close your eyes.”

“Peter--.” 

“Mr. Stark.”   
Tony sighed as he closed his eyes. “Okay, okay. They’re closed.” He stood with his back turned and eyes closed as Peter once again struggled. He heard him muttering quiet curses as he jumped from one foot to the next and then he heard the mattress creak as he probably sat down to make it easier. 

He was taking longer than Tony expected him to. “You good, Pete?”

“Yeah-- hold on.” He grunted and Tony gave him another thirty seconds before he asked him again. Peter gave in this time. “I just need a little help.”

Tony turned around and saw Peter sitting on his bed. He managed to get his pants on, but he was stuck with the sweatshirt. He had his hand through the head hole and Tony couldn’t help but smile. “You almost had it, bud.” 

“Just come help,” Peter mumbled from inside the shirt. 

Tony helped put the shirt on right and ruffled his hair once it was all done. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, pulling on the hem of his sweatshirt. It was one of Tony’s MIT ones. “Thank you.” 

Tony took a seat next to him, letting out a breath. “So...Happy helps you like that every night?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. Just about.” 

Tony knew that Happy was head over heels for May, but he didn’t know just how devoted he was to the Parkers. “You’re not too embarrassed around him?”

“He’s always here. I woke him up one night screaming when May was pulling an overnight shift,” Peter said quietly. 

It wasn’t an accusation, but Tony still felt his gut twist at that. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

Peter chuckled without much amusement to his voice. “Wasn’t your fault when I did everything to keep you away.” 

Tony swallowed thickly, thinking about how miserable these past two weeks had really been. “Yeah...please don’t do that again,” he whispered. 

“I won’t,” Peter said. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I just want you to know that you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I don’t care if I have to help you get changed and cut your food into small pieces until the day I die, I’ll be happy to do it for you.” He wrapped an arm around Peter and pulled him close to his side. 

"It's just embarrassing. I'm Spider-Man-- or I was. I should be able to eat dinner and shower by myself," Peter mumbled, looking down at his lap. 

Tony furrowed his brow. "What do you mean _were?"_

"Oh, come on, Mr. Stark. I can't be Spider-Man like this." 

Huffing, Tony said, "That's not true. Sure, it's going to be hard to adjust to things now, but losing your arm doesn't stop you from being Spider-Man. It can't stop you from living your life. You're too strong to let it beat you like that." 

"I don't have an arm, Mr. Stark." 

"I can list off dozen of people that don't have an arm, that don't have a leg, that don't have both of either, that don't have any of it...and guess what, bub? They still kick ass. Whether you want to learn to be Spider-Man again with or without the bionic arm, you're getting back out there if that's what you really want." 

"You really I'll be able to get back out there?" Peter asked in a scared voice but looked up at Tony again. 

Tony pulled him in close and smiled. "Of course, I do. Just you wait." 

Peter settled against his side and he was so quiet, Tony thought he might have fallen asleep. But then he spoke up again,  “You know...maybe I am more like Luke than I thought.” 

“How’s that?” Tony asked, rubbing Peter’s side soothingly as if there wasn’t supposed to be an arm pressed against that side. There didn't need to be. This still felt perfectly right. NO matter what, Peter always belonged right here by his side. 

“My dad cut off my hand too-- well, my arm. Even Darth Vader went easy on Luke.” 

Tony stilled, unable to believe what Peter just said. Did he really--?

Peter breathed out a laugh, looking up to Tony without moving away from his side. “Too soon?”

“Yes, Peter. Way too soon.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
